


Things My Heart Used to Know (Things It Yearns to Remember)

by wingsyouburn



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate character arc, Alternative Timeline, Baby Switch, Child Neglect, Gen, Mentioned Han Solo, Mentioned Luke Skywalker, Mentioned Padmé Amidala, Pre-Star Wars: The Force Awakens, baby swap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-18
Updated: 2019-01-18
Packaged: 2019-10-11 22:47:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17455742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wingsyouburn/pseuds/wingsyouburn
Summary: Two boys are taken from their homes. Only one returns to a certain senator and a smuggler - but whether or not it is the right son remains to be seen. The other is abandoned to the underworld, surely to die within the week.But the Force is strong with this one. A bloodline he’ll never be aware of runs through his veins. And as such, a legacy born to one child is granted to another, and Darth Vader’s grandson falls into oblivion.





	Things My Heart Used to Know (Things It Yearns to Remember)

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the offhand remark my friend Matt made at work one day: "I can't wait for Kylo Ren to find out he's adopted." Which then led my brain to wondering what would have happened to the real Ben Solo and, well... here we are. Complete alternate timeline that meets up eventually with The Force Awakens, with plenty of liberties taken in between.
> 
> Chances are this is not the Ben Solo you're expecting, and he's definitely not Kylo Ren, but I hope you enjoy.

Across the galaxy, a First Order arises from the ashes of the Empire. A young man falls to the dark side of the Force, and the last Jedi is forced into hiding. On Jakku, a stormtrooper defects, a pilot escapes, and a scavenger sets into motion the events that will change the course of history. 

Before all of that, two boys are taken from their homes. Only one returns to a certain senator and a smuggler - but whether or not it is the right son remains to be seen. The other is abandoned to the underworld, surely to die within the week. 

But the Force is strong with this one. A bloodline he’ll never be aware of runs through his veins. And as such, a legacy born to one child is granted to another, and Darth Vader’s grandson falls into oblivion.

***

On the streets of Coruscant, the little boy fights to survive.

He ducks and weaves through the merchant stalls and ground traffic, too small for the authorities to catch him. Even when they do, he always makes it out. Often times he can convince them he's not worth the trouble - after all, what use is another street rat who might end up dead come the next morning anyway? A silver tongue and a way with words, he has the conviction of a politician and the survival instinct of someone with nothing left to lose.

It doesn’t earn him friends. It does, however, find him food to eat and a place to keep warm and dry at night. He’s too young for this life and he knows it. 

But he was abandoned here. So he makes the best of it.

***

Sometimes, weird things happen. Items come to him when called. He knows when it's time to go, like an itch in the back of his mind that's stronger when danger is around. It saves him more times than he's willing to count.

But he never tells anyone what he can do. They'd take him in, force him into some foster family or worse, to join the stormtrooper ranks like so many random kids taken from the streets. He's better than that. Smarter. He can survive on his own.

He's always been on his own.

***

He looks up at the spaceships flying above them and wonders what it would be like to stow away, to leave this hellhole of a city behind. The few wrecks he explores have a lot of potential, but nothing he can make work just yet. Someday soon, he'll get his chance. Leave Coruscant and its underworld behind and see the galaxy as a famous smuggler or pilot or something. Something better than an orphan without a home.

***

When he dreams, sometimes he remembers. A bedroom with bright colors and fluffy animals. A stuffed jawa and a golden droid with a prissy voice. An astromech who screeches and twitters. More than that, he dreams of his parents. Warm brown eyes from his mother, a crooked smile from his father.

They only exist in his dreams, but in those moments, they love him. They care for him. 

They can’t be real, or else he wouldn’t be here, sleeping on a concrete floor, looking up at a sky too full of buildings and ships to see the stars.

***

He first hears about the Jedi from one of the travelling merchants who sometimes set up shop near where he scavenges. He can’t be more than ten years old and he can’t get enough of the Twi’lek woman’s stories.

“I saw one of them once,” the merchant says, headtails twitching as she speaks. “Their lightsabers are real, you know. Lit up the whole room just like if you’d turned on the overhead lights. Burn right through you, too, if you weren’t careful. Saw it slice through a whole army of droids.”

“Droids don’t make an army,” the boy says. 

“They used to. This was during the Clone Wars, you know. Jedi fighting alongside the troopers. Who’d have thought it, huh?” 

He thinks that she’s full of it, but two weeks later, she returns: “They say Luke Skywalker’s gone from Rebel hero to fuckin’ patron saint of the Jedi.” 

Luke Skywalker is a name he’s supposed to know. His mind’s eye sees flowing robes and blue eyes and a kind smile. _Uncle Luke,_ his brain whispers. 

And just like that, he shoves the thought aside. The Jedi are just stories. What does he care about a fancy academy being built on the other side of the galaxy? It doesn’t put food in his mouth or a roof over his head. He has more important things to worry about.

***

He's 14 when he first talks his way aboard a ship. The humanoid working the door is easily swayed, and he’s growing taller every day, which makes it easy to lie about his age. He can do anything better than the others - stowing hidden cargo, navigating routes, repair a broken hyperdrive. Years of studying star charts and tinkering with wrecks pays off, and he climbs the ranks quickly. He makes a name of his own, and it’s something he’s never had before, a name.

“What do they call you, kid?” the gruff smuggler at the helm asks him. 

All he remembers is that he was once called Ben. It’s a murmur on his mother’s lips when she kisses him goodnight, or a call from his father when he’d run off too far. But it doesn’t suit him any longer. 

So he shrugs. Cocks his head back and flicks dark hair out of his eyes. “Jacen.” Jacen doesn’t have parents. Jacen doesn’t have a past. Jacen has a blaster and some credits and a stubborn will to live to see morning. It’ll have to be enough.

***

Jabba the Hutt might be dead, but Tatooine is as much of a shithole as it ever was and Mos Eisley isn’t much better. But there’s something else about it that feels like home in his bones, like he’s spent a lot of time here in another life and he’s just returned from a long trip away. At 17 no one questions when he orders a drink and sits at a corner table with more blaster marks than actual stone.

His contact is a Toydarian, wings flapping incessantly as he floats over to his table. “You’re late,” Jacen says, and one hand drops to the blaster at his side. His danger sense twitches; there’s something about this one that he doesn’t like, doesn’t trust. He’s already mapped out the exits, but he’s not that close to the door. 

“You,” the Toydarian shoves a finger at him, “changed the time. I thought we had a deal.” 

He lifts one shoulder, keeping his face straight. “Things change. You either have the parts for us or you don’t. I will either pay you for said parts, or I won’t.” 

“Or what? You think you can just take them, huh?” The Toydarian’s next sentence is a string of Huttese, and though Jacen doesn’t speak it, he’s been in enough situations like this to know when he’s being cussed out. “Stupid offworlders-”

It would be so easy. Pull out the blaster and shoot the Toydarian between the eyes, find out where the parts are and just go. Others in his position would have. From the way the Toydarian’s eyes flick back and forth, he’s pretty sure someone’s already tried. There’s a part of him that whispers, _do it do it do it do it do it -_

But he doesn’t. The Toydarian is annoying and there are a thousand places he wants to be right now, but murder isn’t the answer. Not right now. 

“Never said I wouldn’t pay,” Jacen assures him instead, “but I need to know the parts are good first.” He sets down a datapad with more credits than he’s ever had to his name. Another man would have taken the money and run. He likes to think he’s a man of his word, even in a shady place like this one. “So take me to them, Watto, or I’m leaving.”

***

Only the bravest smugglers go to Naboo, or the dumbest. As the home planet of the late Emperor Palpatine, the beauty of Theed lies atop an underworld that’s shady as fuck. But the money’s good and Jacen doesn’t care enough about his own well being to give it a second thought. Working out of Naboo gets his name around to different smuggling circles and opens up another round of opportunities for him. Soon, he’ll have enough for his own ship, and he won’t have to work for anyone else ever again.

Still, Theed is a gorgeous place, murals and art everywhere. Above ground, he does his best to fit in, purchasing the flowing robes that the locals seem to prefer. The dark colors help keep him from being noticed in the underground, but in the sunlight they’re hot and heavy. He pauses against a wall and tugs at his collar, looking for some relief, when the mural catches his eye. 

It’s a mosaic of a young woman, no older than her late teens, her profile facing the water beyond. A red robe drapes around her body, with gold detailing in the front, and her hair wraps around like a halo while a gold headpiece frames her head. Her face is painted white with red designs on her lips, and he’s never seen such emotion in a piece of art before. Not that he’s led a life that allows him to partake in such a simple luxury as looking at art before, but he’s entranced all the same. 

She has to be someone important. But if so, the Empire would have torn down her portrait for what she represented. The only reason why Naboo’s culture hasn’t been stomped out completely is because Palpatine kept his base of operations on Coruscant, and even with the creepy fuck gone the Empire’s roots are still here. Here, he can still feel that crushing weight, the beauty hiding the darkness beneath, and it seems, so does the woman in the portrait.

“Who is that?” he finally asks a woman walking by, gesturing to the mural. 

“Queen Amidala, of course.” The woman looks him over, and he knows when he’s being judged. “The child queen turned senator. How have you never heard of her?” 

Of course she’s a queen. She certainly looks it, but the monarchy died on Naboo with the rise of the Empire. Yet there is such sorrow in her eyes that he can’t look away. As if he should know her, should recognize part of himself in her. 

He gets on a ship for the Outer Rim the next day.

***

Luke Skywalker’s academy burns to the ground. Some asshole calls himself Kylo Ren and the remnants of the Empire flock to him like moths to a flame.

Jacen doesn’t give a damn. All it does is make space routes impassable and his job that much harder. The Republic is bad enough, but the First Order is like a big bully on the playground who uses size and intimidation to get everything they want. He’s dealt with that before, and he refuses to bow to another’s will simply because they tell him to. 

Eventually, no matter how good you are, all smuggler’s luck runs out, and he finds himself facing a small squad of black TIE fighters. “Surrender immediately,” the rigid voice on the comm tells him, “and prepare to be boarded.” Jacen knows what he has onboard. At best, they take the cargo and let him go. At worst, well. Jacen has spent a lifetime avoiding the worst. There’s no other choice but to fight. 

The invisible force that guides him in times of trouble takes over. His fingers shouldn’t move that fast over the controls, but they do. He pilots the ship in ways he’s never thought himself capable of before, but he knows he’s doing the right thing. Sound ceases to exist around him, ignoring the warning lights as the shields fail and the hyperdrive strains under the pressures Jacen creates for it. 

In the end, nothing is left of his pursuers but space dust, his cargo intact, and his life still in his own hands. 

But the bounty on his head goes higher.

***

There are few free places left in the galaxy, and Takodana is one of them. It’s the perfect hub for shady dealings in the way of Mos Eisley, and if you weren’t careful, the jovial nature around them would lull you into thinking you were safe. Protected, even. There are agents for both sides of the brewing galactic war everywhere he looks, but right now, it doesn’t matter. Jacen knows nothing is safe, but sometimes, things are comfortable. He can do with comfortable every once in a while.

Plus, Maz Kanata is a great contact here. She’s not a friend - Jacen doesn’t have friends - but she is, he thinks, the closest he might come to one. She brings him his favorite drink without him having to ask for it, and always seeks him out whenever he arrives, no matter what ship he comes in on. 

He’s leaning back in his seat, posture making him look more at ease than he is, when Maz brings him another refill. “Every time I see you,” she says without preamble, because Maz always gets to the point and Jacen likes that about her, “I think you look more familiar to me than you should.” 

“I’ve been coming here for almost a decade, Maz. You should know my face by now.” 

“That’s not what I mean,” she says, poking his arm. “Same eyes in different people.” 

Jacen freezes, but his face doesn’t change. A younger version of himself might have asked after his parents, the people who abandoned him to the underworld to die, who still appear in his dreams. If anyone would know them, it would be Maz, but he’s vowed never to breathe a word about them again. Instead he cocks his head and studies her. “What, are you gonna tell me you think I’m a reincarnated something-or-other now? Even the Jedi never believed in that.” 

She opens her mouth as if to speak, but pauses, looking over at the door. Then, to compensate for her small height, Maz stands on a chair to see over the hodgepodge group of beings gathered in her bar. _“Han Solo!”_ she shouts across the room, and everyone falls silent. 

That name, too, rings a bell. As Maz abandons him to greet their new guest, Jacen slides out of his seat, leaves a few credits on the table for his drinks, and heads for the door. In smuggling rings, Han Solo means trouble isn’t far behind. The man is a magnet for it and while he gets results, he’s also just as likely to fuck things up beyond repair. Rumor says Solo is crazy enough to haul rathtars and that is the last thing anyone needs to get involved in. Better for Jacen to sneak out while he still has the chance.

And yet, there is a nagging in Jacen’s heart that says, _turn around, go back, you need to go see him,_ but he pushes those instincts aside. If he leaves now, whatever bullshit that’s followed Solo here will blow right past him. 

He shakes off the feeling, but his fingers hesitate over the controls. _Stay,_ his brain whispers. _Fight. Face the past._

The sky darkens with enemy ships. The First Order. They must be after Solo. It’s the only explanation, but with them in orbit, Jacen’s hopes of escaping Takodana dim. He’ll never make hyperspace with that many ships blocking the way, and even if he did, one of them would likely follow him. 

He grits his teeth. Rolls his shoulders back. Takodana is big, but Maz’s place is the most obvious spot to hit, especially if they’ve come for Solo. Still, it won’t be the first time he’s run from the law, or from someone who thinks they’re the law. There’s plenty of forest to hide in, and no one knows he’s here, though it might cost him his ship. 

Either way, he refuses to go down without a fight. At least he has time to ready his blasters, grab a pack he keeps for emergencies such as this, and duck out into the woods beyond. 

If nothing else, Jacen is good at disappearing.

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from "Once Upon a December" from Anastasia <3


End file.
